


Can't Get Enough

by ooihcnoiwlerh



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Body Worship, Bottom Richie Tozier, Coming Untouched, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Richie Tozier Cries During Sex, Sharing Clothes, Top Eddie Kaspbrak, body image issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:20:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23387287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ooihcnoiwlerh/pseuds/ooihcnoiwlerh
Summary: Richie thinks it would be funny to try on one of Eddie's shirts.  Eddie's response is not what he expected.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 22
Kudos: 523





	Can't Get Enough

**Author's Note:**

> I was chatting with friends on Discord about the possibility of Eddie and Richie swapping shirts, because the idea is cute, but because I'm me, my mind immediately took a left turn into smut and came up with this.

It starts because the moment they start dating, Eddie takes to wearing Richie’s shirts.

To sleep in, to do chores around the house, and occasionally wearing one of Richie’s Hawaiian shirts open in the front as a coverall while they’re lounging by the pool. Richie likes how his shirts drape comfortably on his boyfriend’s body and the image of Eddie in shirts that say things like, “Stud Detector.” And he doesn’t mind that the reverse just couldn’t work; he’d just look like ten pounds of hairy, pale sausage in five pounds of casing.

So he means it as a joke one evening, when he has nothing on the docket for that day except hang out with Eddie when he gets home from work, when he shucks his current t-shirt and rifles through Eddie’s clothes for one of his own. Eddie favors plain, form-fitting v necks after Bev calmly and thoroughly instructed him on why he should give away all of his shapeless polos, and Richie’s hardly complaining.

Eddie certainly will once he sees how much Richie is stretching the shirt to its very limits, pulling at the seams as he grunts and struggles to get it on all the way, and nearly breathless with the effort once it’s on him. 

He feels the exposed air around his lower stomach where the hem of Eddie’s shirt doesn’t quite cover him, feels how the fabric almost pinches in the armpits and shoulders and strains across his chest, and resolves to not look in the mirror before heading to the living room and sprawling across the couch to fiddle with his phone until he hears the key turning in the front door and gets up, smirking and leaning against the side of the couch with his arms folded, ready to annoy his boyfriend.

He’s prepared for eye-rolls, for groans, for Eddie to scold him for stretching out the material before Richie tells him he “made it Richie-sized for him” and they both get a laugh out of it.

He’s not prepared for Eddie to take one look at him and drop his briefcase to the floor, or for Eddie to freeze, eyes wide and mouth falling open.

All at once Richie feels too exposed. He must look so fucking stupid, so awkward and out of shape. In one of his Hawaiian shirts or goofy tees he can hide his paunch; hell, even when he’s naked it matters less but he decided to wear something that highlights some of his worst features. Only way he could’ve made more of a mistake would have been for him to find a shirt that somehow also draws attention to his massive forehead. He feels his smile fade as Eddie stays, silent, for the seconds that feel stretched, agonizingly, into centuries.

Richie manages to find his voice as Eddie’s gaze rakes over his body. “That bad?” he asks, voice coming out in a pitiful squeak. 

Eddie doesn’t respond, and Richie finally manages to decipher through his jangled nerves the look in Eddie’s eyes before Eddie stalks up to him and draws his face down for a rough kiss.

Richie melts into it, trying to ignore how leaning down to meet Eddie adds gravity to the mix and adds to the soft give of his stomach, trying to sift through the haze of his confusion to figure out what the hell got Eddie so riled up, when he feels Eddie’s hands slide down his body to squeeze his sides and he gasps.

The touch is too much; Richie’s sexual history had rarely lent itself to intimacy until Eddie, but even now a hand on his stomach is enough to take his breath away and make him want to shrink into nothing. Eddie still runs his hands under the hem of Richie’s—no, _his_ shirt until the fabric hitches further up Richie’s waist. It takes everything Richie has to not flinch away at the touch.

Eddie pulls out of the kiss, but still leans up, breath against Richie’s, and murmurs, “Bedroom?”

Richie hasn’t been this thrown for a loop since the first time Eddie ever kissed him. He puts on something that showcases his ugliest parts and presumably makes him look ridiculous and Eddie’s instinctive response is… _this_?

“You mean it?” Richie asks, because he’s dumb enough to try to knock some reason into a man who by all accounts could easily find someone who could _actually_ pull this look off.

“Fuck yeah, I mean it,” Eddie says, sounding almost incredulous, hands still on Richie’s waist as his thumbs rub circles against the skin, and this way it’s almost soothing, or at least doesn’t make Richie want to flinch away. “Isn’t that what you were going for?”

“Uh…” Richie lets out a nervous laugh. “No? It was supposed to be funny.” He still doesn’t understand what the hell has gotten into Eddie, but if it elicits _this_ reaction, does he really have the right to complain?

Eddie laughs with him. “It’s kind of funny,” he says. And settles his hands lower, on Richie’s hips and pulling him in towards him. Eddie stares up at him with a gaze sharp enough to cut diamonds and adds, “And it’s also really fucking sexy. And I _really_ want to fuck you. That sound good to you, Richie?”

Well, let it never be said that Edward Kaspbrak _wasn’t_ full of surprises. “ _Yes_ ,” Richie manages before Eddie surges up and kisses him again.

Eddie leads them, shucking his suit jacket and undoing his tie before nudging them both to the bed, where Richie falls back first, ready to let Eddie continue to take the reign. He spreads his legs and settles back on his elbows as Eddie pauses to take off his shoes before reaching into the nightstand for lube.

His own patience is wearing thin, the anticipation of Eddie thoroughly railing him too appealing for him not to want to speed up the waiting process. He tugs Eddie down to him the moment Eddie climbs into bed.

“Eager, are we?” Eddie asks, grinning as Richie starts undoing the buttons to Eddie’s shirt.

Richie raises an eyebrow. “Pot calling the kettle black, aren’t we?” he retorts, before spreading his legs wider.

Eddie grins wider before pulling back, ignoring Richie’s disappointed grunt to hook his fingers under the waistband of Richie’s sweatpants and slide them down his legs.

Richie doesn’t know how to explain, then, as Eddie gets Richie’s legs up high enough to get rid of the sweatpants entirely, that he feels almost more exposed than he would be if he was fully naked as he lays back in just one of Eddie’s shirts that’s now ridden up to expose most of his hairy, chalk-white stomach lined with a slight cushion of fat. But he tries to set aside the gnawing feeling in his gut, and it becomes easier to focus on the building heat instead, and the stiffening in his cock as Eddie leans down and mouths along Richie’s inner thigh.

“It’s fucking incredible, you know?” Eddie says, gently grabbing at the give of Richie’s thigh with his teeth before pressing his lips against it. “You don’t try to be sexy. You seem to think you don’t know how.” He presses a kiss to Richie’s navel, and Richie can’t stop the sharp intake of breath as he does it. “You seem to think you’re incapable, or something.”

“Eddie…” Richie tries, and he doesn’t know where he was going with that thought before Eddie nips at Richie’s belly, just above his mons, and draws his tongue over skin Richie hadn’t even known was this fucking sensitive to leave him shaking already. Eddie repeats the action, sucking a mark onto Richie’s lower belly with one elbow braced on the bed and his free hand caressing Richie’s hip.

Eddie pulls away long enough to murmurs, his breath ghosting over Richie’s belly, over his cock, “You just exist. And that’s enough. I don’t know how the fuck it’s possible to be even more attracted to you than I already am and then you do something like this, just being yourself, and I somehow want you even more than I did before.”

And with that, he takes the head of Richie’s cock into his mouth and slides down, once, before pulling off and ducking his head and licking a wide stripe from Richie’s balls and up his shaft.

“ _Fuck_.” It comes out as hardly more than a whimper, Richie trembling with nerves, with need. Eddie’s words seem like a pleasant, indecipherable dream meant to be impossible. He’s not magnetic or sexy; it shouldn’t be possible for someone to have this kind of response to him, and yet here they are. His breath comes ragged as Eddie sits up between Richie’s thighs and reaches for the lube, uncapping the bottle and pouring a generous amount over two fingers and warming the lube between them and his thumb before pressing the digits against Richie’s asshole.

Richie arches back, drawing his legs up as Eddie continues to rub his middle and index fingers against his rim without pushing in.

“Come on, _come on_ ,” Richie manages, and Eddie relents, pressing his middle finger in first and curling it towards Richie’s stomach as his free hand steadies on the bare skin of Richie’s stomach. It vaguely occurs to Richie that it’s becoming easier and easier to handle Eddie touching him there, but that feeling is kind of overshadowed by the way Eddie’s finger twists and curls inside of him. The first time Eddie ever topped him was the first time _any_ man had ever been inside of him, and even that first time, after agonizingly long foreplay and questioning, it was like opening Pandora’s box; Richie was hooked. He should’ve known then that Eddie would in his own way teach him things about his own body he’d never expected to learn.

“Ready for another?” Eddie asks him, and while Richie wants to say that it’s really fucking unfair that he’s nearly naked while Eddie still preposterously has most of his clothes on, he also really, really wants to get fucked, so he says, “ _Fuck._ Yeah, I’m ready.”

Eddie grins as he pulls one finger out, only to press two against him. “God, _look_ at you, all spread out, hot as hell for me. How do you not know what you look like?”

“I _do_ know what I look like,” Richie manages, even as he’s squirming to get Eddie’s fingers inside of him.

Eddie pulls his fingers away, and Richie is about ready to scream when Eddie says, “No, fuck that. None of that self-deprecating bullshit.”

Richie doesn’t scream, however, nor does the instinctive, _Oh, fuck you_ come out. Because Eddie suddenly thrusts his fingers inside of him at just the right angle to make his toes curl and for him to shudder. “Whenever I see your back, your shoulders, your ass it really is that I hate seeing you leave but I love watching you go. I might be addicted to the way you fill out every shirt, or how long your legs are. I can’t get over the fact that I get to have you, all six feet two inches of all this _you_ to play with, and maybe I fell in love with you because you’re funny”—Eddie twists his fingers again, and places his free hand under Richie’s corresponding thigh to spread it wider, and Richie almost sobs—“and maybe because you get me like no one else ever has”—he continues thrusting his fingers in and out at a quickening pace, unrelenting, “but I gotta say, some of it is because you are in fact the most fucking irresistible creature I’ve ever laid eyes on and nothing is more satisfying than knowing I’m the one who gets to do this with you.”

Richie groans at the onslaught, both inside of him and at the praise he really can’t digest right now. He feels tears prick up at the corner of his eyes and, humiliatingly, he doesn’t know exactly what’s causing them.

Eddie stills, brows furrowed. “Are you okay, Richie?” he asks, and withdraws his fingers. 

Richie regains enough sense to say, “I swear to God, Eds, if you don’t get your clothes off and your cock in me right fucking now—”

Eddie shuts him up again when he falls forward and kisses him, tenderly in sharp contrast to the fierce urgency from earlier; his dry hand cups Richie’s cheek, and Richie appreciates the gesture here, but he also has his eyes on the prize. He takes advantage of their closeness to finish undoing the buttons to Eddie’s shirt and spreading it away from his chest. Eddie follows the implicit command and breaks their kiss to sit up and remove his shirt entirely.

Talk about irresistible, Richie thinks, splaying his fingertips over Eddie’s chest. _He’s the reason I have a type, and I didn’t even know it for twenty-five years_.

“C’mere,” he says aloud, and doesn’t wait before sitting up and reaching for Eddie’s belt, unfastening it and Eddie’s slacks before taking Eddie’s cock out, past half-mast and quickly coaxed to full hardness under Richie’s expert work. Eddie finishes the job, reaching for more lube and drizzling it on himself before working himself quickly and without the finesse Richie usually has for him.

Richie, meanwhile, remembers his own, or rather, Eddie’s shirt and makes to pull it off; all joking aside, he really must look fucking dumb in it when Eddie stops him with his free hand.

“Uh,” Eddie starts, face and chest flushed and eyes wide with arousal. “So, I never thought I’d say this, but could you keep it on?”

Richie glances down. He really, truly, doesn’t get whatever the hell Eddie’s seeing right now but the reaction he’s managed to draw out is unquestionable, to say the least. “This really does it for you,” he says, amazed.

A small, crooked smile quirks at the corner of Eddie’s mouth. “Yeah,” he says. “It really does.” 

“ _Huh_ ,” is all Richie can come up with as he pulls down Eddie’s pants and cups his ass to coax him forward.

Eddie kisses him one last time. “Lay back for me, Richie,” he murmurs, and Richie does, drawing his legs back to his chest and holding his knees, so fucking ready for this he can practically feel his heart beat in the pulse of his cock.

But Eddie doesn’t immediately fill him up, instead he trails his body down first, repeating his earlier actions of pressing his mouth to Richie’s stomach, his hips, grazing his teeth over his skin.

Richie can feel himself tremble, so impossibly open for the taking and yet being fucking _cherished_ instead, and tries not to think about how no one has ever touched him like this, and he assumed no one ever would.

He doesn’t anticipate and couldn’t stifle his moan when Eddie sucks one final mark just above where his pubic hair begins and Eddie hums in kind.

 _What do you know_ , Richie thinks, almost dazed, _I fucking like that_.

And then Eddie’s up and positioning himself at Richie’s asshole, and slowly pressing inside.

Eddie always starts slow, drawing out every reaction he can and making sure Richie’s fully prepared for him; methodical, is the word. 

He thrusts shallowly at first, holding one of Richie’s knees and rubbing his thumb over his thigh, pushing in by degrees before Richie huffs and hooks his other leg around Eddie’s hips.

“Come on,” he says, not snapping but not far from it if Eddie doesn’t speed up, thrust deeper, “You haven’t hurt me before and you aren’t going to now.”

Eddie raises one eyebrow before thrusting in the rest of the way, drawing grunts from both of them.

“Wish you knew how fucking good you feel,” Eddie tells him, pulling back and thrusting all the way in again. 

Richie laughs, and the growing force with which Eddie moves inside of him stops his laughter in its tracks and has him throwing his head back against the pillow. He can’t be deterred, though. No one can shut up the Trashmouth forever, and he manages, “I don’t, but you’ve told me often enough. Makes you sound pretty gay, dude.”

Eddie snickers and pushes Richie’s leg back, brings it to his shoulder (God, was _that_ a hell of a discovery first time Eddie did that to him) and finally, mercifully, starts a rhythm that knocks the headboard against the wall and has the bedsprings squeaking.

“Oh, Jesus _fuck_!” Richie can already feel sweat collecting at the armpits of the too-tight shirt, precome dripping from the head of his cock, his legs shaking as he keeps one loosely wrapped around Eddie, the other still braced on Eddie’s shoulder. 

“I’ve got you,” Eddie tells him, his hand stroking Richie’s shin, other hand cradling Richie’s hip and rubbing his thumb against the indent. 

Richie could say, _You’re such a sap, Eds_. Instead he feels a sob in his chest. “I know,” he says. Because he could call Eddie a sap but Richie has the mortifying suspicion that he’s even worse. “Just…” he can feel it building, but he’s not at the precipice yet. He needs more. “Come _on._ Fucking give it to me, Eds.”

Eddie pauses, pupils blown wide, and turns his head to press a kiss and then a teasing bite to Richie’s calf that makes Richie almost yelp before he leans forward, and together they get Richie’s knees drawn back and out before slamming into him with all his body weight.

Richie _shouts_ , shaking and gasping for air, barely able to hear the deafening onslaught of the headboard probably knocking a crater into the back wall over Eddie murmuring in his ear, “ _You’re so fucking gorgeous, Richie. Don’t know how I got so lucky. Everything about you drives me crazy_.”

And Richie cries out, coming endlessly, clutching at Eddie’s back, burying his face in Eddie’s shoulder as his come splatters across both their stomachs.

Eddie moans at that, and the stimulation, the pressure is almost too much for one person to handle before Eddie comes fully seated and throbbing inside of him. After a few more rogue, instinctive thrusts Eddie stills, forehead pressed to Richie’s shoulder.

Richie drops his legs to rest on either side of Eddie’s body, and runs his hands over Eddie’s back, feeling Eddie catch his breath. He vaguely realizes he’s crying; tears cutting trails down the sides of his face and hitting the pillow. Oh well, he thinks. He’s cried before in bed, and he’ll probably do it again. He feels weightless, spent in a way that leaves him empty of everything but Eddie, who slowly, agonizingly, pulls out of him and kneels above Richie long enough to cup the back of his head and steer him into a kiss.

Eddie pulls away first, brushing a thumb along the tear tracks. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” he asks, caterpillar brows drawn and mouth set in a worried line.

Richie leans up and kisses his cheek, the scar that’s as healed over as it’s ever going to be. “That was fucking amazing,” Richie tells him. “I’m going to stretch out every t-shirt you own.”

Eddie’s face softens into a smile, and then he’s laughing, burying his head in the crook of Richie’s neck.

Later that night, in bed with just the sheets (“ _Over my dead body will we have a come-stained comforter just because I forgot to put a towel down_. _It’s going in the washing machine_ ”) Eddie turns to him and says, “You know I mean it, right? I’m in love with every part of you. The part of you that surprises me, the part of you that’s impulsive and goofy. The parts that gel and the pars that don’t. The parts of you that maybe you’re not happy with. All of it.”

“I love that you’re kind of anal,” Richie tells him.

Eddie grins. “Yeah, clearly,” he says, and Richie groans _. Walked right into that one_.

“So I shouldn’t say that I love that you can be kind of an asshole sometimes?” he says, and is met with a kiss.

…

That weekend, Richie uploads a picture to Instagram. It’s the two of them sitting in the same lawn chair next to the backyard pool, both wearing sunglasses and swim trunks. Eddie has on one of Richie’s Hawaiian shirts that’s open in the front and nearly falling off his shoulders. Richie has on one of Eddie’s v-neck t-shirts, this one white and doing nothing to flatter his pasty skin, conceal body hair he has no intention of manscaping, or hide the belly fat made more apparent when he sits down. He captions it, _who wore it better?_

**Author's Note:**

> -You can find me at ooihcnoiwlerh.tumblr.com  
> -I am still working on my current fic, Holler Me Home, but I needed to get this out of my brain and on the page right away.  
> -This could honestly be a future fic for the Richie and Eddie adventures, and may be added to the series once I complete Holler Me Home.


End file.
